Colour, restrained but rich, will mark this autumn. Silk is very sensi tive to it; wool absorbs it, pud renders it again in a kind of curdle which has no sourness in it. Tweed, for instance, is to be much the rule, so complicated in its weaves, and yet genial in its presentation, that one London firm in starting a whole department or tweedery, in which the whole appearance of a well-dressed woman will be considered. Accessorles will become part of their parent costume; the finest Scotch wools, submitted to the latest magic of the dyer and weaver, will be as light as laughter and' as warm as a fireside; and the sweaters and jackets and bags and belts will be sold together with the costume.
Practical and attractive though auiumn clothes may be, it is sure that they will translate themselves into terms of romance for indoor wear.
There is a feeling for graded tones—orange shading into blue, shoal-water effects of organiza over silk midnight-to-noon effects—one begins to hope for wonders to come in the way of those shot-silks which used to have two tones, but must, when they return to power, bring with them the increased power of the loom to produce marvels of texture and hue. One begins to think that Venice herself might stir in her sleep, and dream that the cotton she never knew could transcend her haughty brocade, her cause, her figured silk.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.